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by angeredthoughts



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After Apocalypse, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeredthoughts/pseuds/angeredthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles returns home after the zombie apocalypse</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I was hyped as I wrote this, but sadly I kept getting dragged away and sort of lost focus and intrest. I hope it is still enjoyable. I might go back one day to edit it. or re-write it.

Flicking the lighter, Stiles knelt on the ground looking at the runes he’d painstakingly carved as he lit the candle. Everything was perfect and he took a deep breath. He was sitting in a hopefully magic rich environment, in the middle of a forest, desperately hoping he wasn’t about to die. Looking at the wind up clock he’d managed to find, he took a deep breath and cut open his arms, carefully avoiding anything dangerous. As his blood started dripping into the ground he began chanting. He looked at the burning candle as he chanted, concentrating all his will on the desired outcome. It was a call to the earth itself; a plea to cleanse it of the magic that was befouling it. It took energy and it was a problem. He didn’t have much.

The wind picked up and he shivered as he continued. The runes began to glow before the candle flame died. Panting as he continued his chant, he could feel the build of power. It was terrifying, as though he was trapped in the water, watching a wave build. It crashed through him before spiralling off into the distance. It took a few more seconds before everything died down but by then he could feel the difference.

Pitching forward, he vomited violently before rolling onto his side, away from the sick. He panted and looked at his arms. They were still bleeding. Stiles shook his head as he sat up enough to grab his bag and tugged it over. Opening it, he grabbed everything he needed and bandaged his arms. He pulled out the granola bar he’d saved and ate it before curling into a ball and falling asleep. Tomorrow was going to be brand new – he knew it.

* * *

Touching the faded photograph of the pack he’d kept on him all this time, he smiled softly. He had no idea if they were still alive but he was about to find out. He took a deep breath and looked up. The oddly cheerful sign welcomed him to Beacon Hills. He’d needed to pull over when he saw it. It had been a long time since he’d been home and he was terrified of what he might find. Taking a few deep breaths, he started the car again and pulled back onto the road. There was only one way to find out.

The city seemed to be the same. The coffee shop he’d lived in during exam season was still there; open and running. It had been a shock to him to learn the rest of the world had gone on while he’d been trapped in a living hell. He drove past the station and saw his father’s cruiser wasn’t there. He continued towards home, sweat gathering and dripping down his neck.

Parking on the street, he took a moment to look at his reflection. His hair was buzzed and there were lines from stress around his eyes and mouth. He looked down at his covered arms, knowing there were scars from weapons and sharp nails. He shivered and moved his hand to his side. A bullet wound that hadn’t been treated properly; despite healing it still hurt. Licking his bottom lip, he got out of the car and grabbed his small bag. He looked around; noting it was mid day and people appeared to be at work or in school. It seemed surreal to him.

Shaking his head, he walked up to the door and knocked. He’d lost his keys long ago. He bit his lip nervously as he heard people talking. He swallowed bile that threatened to gag him and gripped the bag tighter. Maybe he should’ve waited. The door swung open before he could change his mind. It wasn’t his father; it was Scott. He was talking to someone, not looking, but the moment the breeze from opening the door caught him his head jerked around. Stiles was left feeling helpless as he stared into the glowing yellow eyes of his best friend.

“Hi.” He managed.

“Stiles,” Scott breathed, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

There was the sound of running feet but Stiles didn’t get the chance to panic before he was encased in the overly warm embrace of his best friend. He stiffened at first, not used to it anymore, before wrapping his arms around him and hugging him back for all he was worth. He wasn’t used to it anymore, but he had missed it. He had missed everything.

“Stiles!” voices called out.

Lifting his head, he felt a brush of relief sooth his stiff muscles. Lydia and Allison were there, they were safe. Of course they had been closer to home then he had been. He was released as his father pushed forward and he found himself in the sheriff’s arms. He closed his eyes as his dad hugged him. Stiles felt like crying. It looked as though everyone was alive; they’d survived.

Tugged inside, he was passed from one person to the next until he was standing in front of Derek. He smiled as Isaac snarked something about the smell of his bag before taking it to wash. It only had his extra pants and shirts in it so he wasn’t worried about anything. Derek stared at him and he stared back. Several seconds passed before Derek wrapped him in a warm embrace, pressing his nose to his neck.

Pulling away after a minute or so, he smiled nervously before something fell. He jerked, startled and a small ball of fire flickered to life in his hand before he remembered where he was. Embarrassed with a racing heart, he quietly dismissed the flame. Everyone was staring at him in disbelief. It made him nervous and he pulled away from them.

“Enough of this,” Lydia suddenly spoke and moved forward, “Someone pick up the umbrella, Stiles, you come and eat something,” she commanded, leaving no room for arguing.

Stiles smiled nervously and moved to the kitchen, absently taking stalk of the windows and doors. It was a new habit he was probably never going to shake. Sitting down when Lydia pointed, he looked around. The house, it seemed perfectly fine and he shivered. It was still a surprise for him and he jumped as a plate was set before him. He looked down and realized he was looking at fresh food, not canned or stale. He lifted his head, his eyes wide, “I still can’t believe it.”

Lydia offered him a small smile, nothing like her usual look and hugged him, “We knew you were alive, I never felt it, but we were still terrified.”

“You and Allison though, you were both safe?” he demanded, hugging her back.

“Yes, we came home as soon as the news broke. It was only New York, Stiles. They managed to keep it contained there until it was over.”

It was almost impossible for him to understand. Everyone he loved had been safe and he had been at the center of such chaos. He looked out towards the living room; he knew they were all talking about him but he still couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“Everyone always figured it’d be a world wide thing. I guess all those drills ended up helping a lot. Who knew they would manage to keep a zombie apocalypse from spreading?”

He felt Lydia shake her head before leaving him to eat, “Your room is the way you left it. We’ve been using it,” she paused, a frown creasing her brows, “we were worried. Don’t worry, it’s all clean. So you can get some rest and everyone can talk later, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

* * *

After his sandwich, he had taken a shower, in hot water, before crawling into his bed. He had stared at his laptop for several minutes before closing his eyes. He couldn’t even remember his password. With a sigh, he’d let himself fall asleep.

The nightmares started the same. Screams of innocent people being attacked by something they had never seen before. They could continue on until he was fighting for his life, desperately trying to get away before succumbing to his fate. As he let out a scream, he jerked upright, the small of gun powder in his nose and the slimy feel of the undead under his fingers. Panting, his eyes jerked around his room, seeing an abandoned classroom for a moment before he realized he wasn’t alone. Scrambling back, it took a few seconds for him to see the glowing red eyes of his alpha. It was calming and he moved his hand to his side, holding the scar tightly as it throbbed in time to his heart beat.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered, tossing his blankets aside. It was still dark out and he was only a little startled to see his alarm clock glowing, telling him it was three in the morning.

“Your heart is racing,” Derek commented, moving closer.

Nodding his head, He took a few deep breaths before stiffening as Derek turned on the light. He reached for a shirt but he knew it was fruitless. He could feel the heavy gaze taking in his scars. Pulling on his shirt, he looked over his shoulder and saw Derek staring at him. He shook his head and moved around him, heading down to the kitchen. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and stared in shock. The entire pack was there, asleep, but there. He stumbled a little but caught himself easily enough. He hurried into the kitchen, aware Derek was behind him.

Turning, he looked at the alpha, confused, “Why are they here?”

“Stiles, it’s been a year. There was no contact and all of New York seemed to be shut down. We had no idea… You showing up today was a surprise no one expected. Lydia never felt your death, but we weren’t sure if the distance was messing it up or not. Two weeks ago we learned that all the zombies simply fell over dead and we still knew nothing. Now that you’re here, everyone wants to stay close. They want to know you’re safe.

“I needed to know you were safe. It hasn’t been easy,” Derek confessed, looking away, “I doubt we’ll ever know what you went through, but we had to stay close.”

Stiles opened his mouth, about to say something when the front door opened. He jerked and spun around. It was Melissa. He stared at her in surprise, not having realized she hadn’t been there. She was clutching her phone and he could see it was open to a text message. Slowly he relaxed as he realized it was not the undead breaking into his safe haven. Licking his lips, he turned to Derek. Derek was staring at him with sadness and he flinched.

“Is it really you?” Melissa asked, reminding him clearly she had become a mother for him. She was in a state of disbelief and he turned back to her. He nodded and she was there, hugging him. He flinched as she tugged on the scar. Before he could hug her back, he found himself sitting as she lifted his shirt, clearly going back to nurse mode, “What happened?” she asked.

Unaware the rest of the pack was awake and listening, or that his father had come down in preparation of an early shift at the station, he explained, “I accidently stumbled into a safe zone. I was covered in blood and other bodily fluids. I was a right mess and at the time, it was fire first ask later,” he explained with a shrug.

Cringing as she prodded the area, he sighed as she muttered about infections. He lifted his head and saw his dad before he saw the others standing there. Shaking his head, he looked down as Melissa continued checking the angry red scarring. It had taken forever to heal. He blinked as she pulled away looking worried.

“Stiles, there isn’t an exit wound?” she questioned, looking worried.

“No, I removed the bullet.”

“It’s infected, surely you noticed it?”

Shrugging he explained, “It was about three months ago. I managed to get them to stop trying to kill me and I was allowed some of their medical supplies, but as the rest of the world seemed to disappear there was only so much to be done. I used my knife it get the bullet out and cleaned it as best I could. It’s still infected?”

“Yes, it is, you should go to the hospital,” Melissa explained, giving him a motherly look he couldn’t remember receiving before.

“Alright,” he said before leaving the house. He was used to just doing what needed to be done. It didn’t cross his mind to ask for a lift but it seemed someone else thought of it. A hand grabbed his shoulder and he reacted without thinking. His arm swung out, connecting with a solid jaw before a flash of magic sent the body flying away from him. He spun around, dropping into a defensive crouch, before realizing he’d just blasted Boyd back into the house. He was breathing heavily as he remained crouched, trying to remember he wasn’t surrounded by zombies and no one was trying to kill him.

Erica rushed over to him as the others stared in shock. Stiles took a deep breath and straightened out. He moved over and made sure he hadn’t done too much damage. They all looked at him fearfully; it was a sign that maybe he should’ve stayed away. He looked down at the ground, angry with himself for responding so violently. A hand appeared in his vision before he was wrapped in a tight embrace.

“It’s not your fault; what you went through…” Scott fell silent before hugging him tighter, “We won’t ever understand but we’ll help you, okay? No one is mad.”

Nodding his head, Stiles turned and headed back for his car. Scott steered him towards the passenger side and got in to drive him. Stiles looked out and saw the others were still a little shocked but were giving him small smiles. He gave a tiny one back before Scott drove off.

* * *

Four hours later, he was leaving the hospital. A few people had welcomed him home but he’d been hurried into a room where he was checked over. They had to remove a tiny fragment of bullet he’d missed and he was given antibiotics to deal with the infection. He rested his head on the window as Scott took him home. It was still strange to see the city so fine, without damage or rotting corpses on the street.

Scott parked and Stiles got out, heading inside. Everyone was still there and there was fresh food. He looked around, a little surprised before realizing they just wanted to know what had happened. Rubbing a hand over his head, he got himself a plate of food and ate quietly while everyone else chatted. Everyone was on break from school, so they didn’t need to rush off anywhere. There was work of course, but they had all apparently made their excuses, since no one was leaving anytime soon. Finishing his plate, he moved to the living room and sat down in the only chair available. He saw Scott pause before sitting on the couch.

Glaring at the coffee table, Stiles spoke before being asked, wanting them to fuck off about it. He was tense and it made him uncomfortable, “You remember I left to get lessons from someone besides Deaton, since he’d taught me all he could,” he started, remembering the arguing and the promises of constant communication. There had been plans for every holiday until he returned. He looked up for a moment before looking down, “The first ‘outbreak’ was the day after I landed. It took me two months after that to find out what had happened. Communications failed, too many people calling for help crashed the systems and then no one was there to fix them. Power fell within a month. I found what had happened though,” he paused and looked down, “The man I was going to study with… just before I got there, his wife was attacked and killed. He tried to bring her back but everything went wrong.

“She attacked him and her bite infected him. He died and came back like her. They were completely soulless; zombies, essentially. Their only purpose seemed to be to feed on the living. Once people stopped screaming,” He trailed off, looking down, “I travelled as much as I could, trying to find solutions. People were barricading themselves everywhere they could. The zombies,” he sighed, “well they were too stupid to know. They just kept going. Eventually barriers would give. I was almost,” he winced and looked down at the floor, “Peter saved me,” he whispered.

There was a shocked reaction and Derek jerked in surprise. They had spent years working with Peter, after he’d come back. It had taken a lot for Peter to understand no one blamed him for being unable to save his family. It had also taken four failed plots to get alpha powers of his own but Stiles tried not to think about that. In the end though, Stiles knew that Peter had done something he’d been unable to do before. The fire had prevented it the first time and he’d ended up killing Laura because of the trauma; but he was finally able to successfully save a pack member.

Running his fingers over the arm of the chair, Stiles spoke, “I’d fallen asleep. I thought the place was abandoned and I was completely exhausted, not enough energy to raise my standard shields. I woke up and everything seemed normal,” he took a deep breath, “but when I went to leave, I found Peter on the ground, dead, surrounded by dismembered bodies of the zombies. I’ve never been sure on how he died,” he paused for a moment, thinking about it, “The bite could’ve been poisonous for werewolves,” he shrugged, not sure and unwilling to do the research for it.

Derek moved over and squeezed his arm. He smiled up at him, just for a moment, before looking around the room. He leaned back into the chair before speaking again, “It took until last month to figure out what to do then I had to gather everything. I cast the spell and voila, no more zombies,” he finished.

Everyone seemed confused; he’d rushed the ending and he hadn’t mentioned how he’d been hurt but he wasn’t really ready for that. They had their basic answers. Rising to his feet, he stretched before hurrying from the room. He didn’t want to hear any questions or theories. Entering his room, he kicked the door shut and looked around at the barely contained chaos. There were books everywhere, most of them where he’d left them when he’d left to New York. There were notebooks, journals and other miscellaneous things laying around, adding to the cluttered feel of his room. None of his clothes were lying around though; he figured people had washed them before putting them away. Looking at his bed for a minute, he shrugged and stripped to his boxers before climbing in. It was comfortable; something he wasn’t used to anymore. For so long he’d slept on solid cold concrete or wet mossy grounds. Ignoring the fact there were people visiting him or whatever, he pulled his pillow comfortably under his head and fell asleep.

* * *

There was screaming as he ran, another girl. He did not understand why they thought to scream so much. There was energy they were wasting; they could be bashing zombie heads in. He cringes when he heard the guys screaming after the girls. At least the girls noticed earlier, the guys just seemed to miss everything. He slid to a stop and swung his trusty bat, bashing in another head.

Escaping was his priority, and he was on his way to the next spot anyway. He ducked under a body and kept running. There wasn’t much he could do to help the people under attack and he had no desire to be killed or worse. He glanced back to see the place go up in flames as they desperately tried to at least stop the oncoming threat.

It had taken him three hours to get to the new place and it had begun to rain. It was rinsing some of the gore from his body but he was so tired he didn’t think about what he looked like. He was just desperate to get to somewhere warm and dry. So focused on running he missed the warning light before the bullet slammed into him. He dropped and cried out, swearing loudly. He heard panicked shouting and then there were people pulling him to safety.

* * *

Jerking awake, he panted and looked around before feeling a heavy arm over his waist. He looked down and followed it up to the quiet gaze watching him. He smiled shyly before settling beside him, rolling onto his side, “So, our agreement still stands?” he asked, nervous.

Derek rolled onto his side and nodded, “I never forgot my promise, Stiles,” he answered, reaching up to touch his face, “I waited for you to come home. It was,” he paused, seemingly struggling to pick out the word he wanted to use, “difficult, for me to stay behind. It took being locked in a cellar for a week to stop me from going to find you.”

Stiles smiled softly and kissed him lightly. Just a brush of lips; it was simple and sweet. Closing his eyes, he let Derek’s warmth soothe him for several moments, “The first day… I wanted you to come. I came to my senses, of course, but still,” he opened his eyes, “I missed you. Dating for a week then suddenly separated. Now…”

“It’s okay Stiles. For now this it all, maybe some movies and dinners; you need to get used to being home and handle what happened before we do more. I,” he paused, blushing, “I was checking on you and you were having a nightmare. It seemed to help.”

Nodding his head, Stiles shifted around until his back was pressed to Derek’s chest. It did make him feel a little safer. With a small sigh of contentment he fell back to sleep, knowing now there was someone at his back.

* * *

It took time; a lot of it. There were days when he would lock himself in his room to feel safe, but he worked through them. There were nightmares that fought to keep him jumpy but he had appointments with Morrell that helped him. Derek was there every night to hold him and it helped more then he could’ve admitted. The first two months involved a lot of damage as he’d react before thinking. The first time he blew up the toaster his dad learned to make noise to announce his presence in the house.

 

There was a massive flash back four months after being home. He’d ended up in the forest with a knife and enough herbs to create a magical equivalence of a bomb before they’d found him and talked him down. He learned the flashback was triggered by idiots on the news network who thought showing the corpses would be a brilliant idea. It was nice when he learned they were sued by other families and he hadn’t been the only one to react badly.

A year had passed since he’d returned home. He could now go shopping without packing a knife and provisions. It took time for him to get comfortable enough to go out with anyone but now he was able to go to the movies or out to dinner with Derek or other members of the pack. He still suffered nightmares and there were days when he just wanted to be in a room with the door locked; he knew that would never completely fade away but he was home. That was all that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://angeredthoughts.tumblr.com)?


End file.
